The Argosy — page 327: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

302 Exmoor and tts People. the mist ; a bit of narrow, stony path which goes climbing down from the hill-side opposite, and upon which an Exmoor pony is picking his way dextrously along, bearing a rider who seems well used to the situation. On each side of the picture the mist is rolling like a grey sea, framing it in, as though the valley were an island shut far away from the rest of the world. We have scarcely gazed, have scarcely wondered, when the whole is once more swept out of sight. Again we are walled in by thick fog, and nothing but its grey folds meet our eye, turn which way we may in our amazed bewilderment. But if there are rare attractions on Exmoor and its neighbouring hills, even in winter, how shall we describe what a golden summer day is like spent amid these scenes? After a long ascent in the burning sun, we reach at last the cairn of stones on the summit of Dunkerry, which is called the Beacon, and which is said to be formed from the remains of the three great fire-places on which the beacon fires used to be kindled to warn the country round in old days of war and trouble, and to be answered by other beacon lights shining far away on the Welsh mountains across the channel. We fling ourselves down upon the purple heather, glancing about a little anxiously at’ first to assure our nervous minds that there are no adders lurking near; for such unpleasant neighbours are frequently to be found on our western hills in warm, summer weather. When we have thus comfortably settled ourselves, let us first look at the soft carpet on which we are ‘lying: a rich and wondrous carpet indeed. The heath is a deeper, more regal hue than any mantle ever worn by an eastern king ; and it is all interwoven with the gold of the gorse, and the small white flowers of the dodder, and the rare, beautiful stag’s-horn moss, which is sought so eagerly by botanists, and which grows here in such size and perfection, flinging itself about in wild abundance. Itis much loved and prized by the west country people themselves, and is always used by them when they want to produce an effect in the way of de- coration. The Exmoor lad twists it round his best hat when he goes courting, and the Exmoor girl gathers it to twine about the pillars of the country church on days of village festival or glad harvest-thanks- giving. But strange and beautiful though our couch is, we must not spend our whole time in examining it. We will lift our heads and first notice with delight the rare freshness, yet softness of the breeze, which is so bracing that it is like a draught of champagne, yet so mild that it seems to have a breath from the distant south mixed with it. There is a briny flavour, too, in this wind, for it has: come bounding across the green Atlantic, and sweeping up the channel, and then has leapt up the hill-sides to greet us here. Mindful of this message from the ocean, our eyes wander quickly across green meadow, and upland farm, and valley filled with variously-tinted foliage, till they reach the channel. There is the column of smoke Eomicbooks.co